


Slightly Better Than Doing Laundry

by Rikku



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikku/pseuds/Rikku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's spring. Far too nice to be cooped up inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slightly Better Than Doing Laundry

“Where are you going?” Gwen said, and she gave him her pleading smile. It was a very good pleading smile, making her seem all sad and wistful. Merlin only managed to break free with a supreme effort of will.

“Gaius asked me to,” he explained, waving the bag as a sort of excuse. “I told him I would.”

“You told me you’d help with folding!” Gwen said. She pointed at the massive pile of sheets, just waiting to be folded. “Matron caught me—” She looked down at the ground, biting her lip, and Merlin felt a stab of compassion. _Moping_ was the most likely end to that sentence. Gwen had talked to him about how distant Morgana was growing, and whenever she talked about that she’d be un-Gwennishly worried, biting her lip and saying things like how it was probably her fault and why would someone like the Lady Morgana, ward to the King, even worry about the opinions of a common serving maid … It was painful to hear her talking like that. And no matter how many stories Merlin shared of Arthur being a complete prat, they never seemed to help. “Well, she thinks I need more work,” Gwen said, and added, brightly, “and fair enough, too, and I don’t mind the work, it’s just that you said you’d help, and we don’t see much of each other ...”

Merlin snorted. “Prince Prat keeps me busy.”

Gwen smiled. “Oh, you’re proud of him really.” Merlin started trying to correct this horrendous misconception, but Gwen had already moved on to, “And since when did you do your chores?”

“I always do my chores,” Merlin said, unconvincingly. She just grinned at him. “I do! I mean, _sometimes_ I forget, but – Arthur keeps me busy!”

“You don’t do your chores for Arthur either.”

“I do too! I mean, not very _well_ , but – look, I owe it to Gaius, alright? He’s like a father to me, and he gives me a place to stay, and I’ll never make a physician, so the least I can do is gather some herbs sometimes.” He waved the bag again, helplessly. “He feeds me _porridge_ , Gwen!”

Gwen laughed. “I thought you hated porridge,” she said, teasing.

“Yeah, but – I hate _his_ porridge. His porridge is there to hate. Otherwise I’d have to steal Arthur’s food, and he’d notice, he eats like a pig.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows. “That’s three times you’ve mentioned him now. You …” And she waved a sheet triumphantly. “You are _friends_. Admit it.”

“We’re not!” Merlin protested. “I mean – yes, I’d die for him in a heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean _living_ with him is any fun. He’s driving me mad. I only got away from him now because he has knights practice, but after that he’ll – there’ll be _cleaning_ , and insulting, and if I insult him back he’ll sticks me in the stocks one of these days and --” He clasped her hands and stared seriously into her eyes. “Gwen! I need to escape!”

“Off you go then,” she said, laughing again. “I can handle some folding.”

Merlin beamed at her gratefully. “I’ll pick you flowers!” he said, and ran outside.

He was glad to get out. It was spring, and spring to Merlin meant outside hours and sunlight and new green grass and smelling the air. He’d tried to explain this to Arthur, and in reply Arthur had generously explained that, actually, spring meant cleaning. Lots and lots of cleaning. Lots and lots of _Merlin_ cleaning while Arthur lay about and made lordly comments and – yes, he did more training with his knights than he had in the winter, but that wasn’t work _really_ , he enjoyed it. And anyway it couldn’t be work if he still had enough energy to insult Merlin and empty buckets over Merlin’s head and trip Merlin over.

So he hadn’t had time to enjoy this pleasant new warmth, and picking herbs made a nice excuse. Anyway, he was getting good at it. He could tell fennel from wormswort now. Some of the time.

Sort of.

A bit.

... Well, anyway, it didn’t matter, because if he got the herbs wrong Gaius would just do that startling thing with his eyebrows, and Merlin could live with that. And the herbs themselves couldn’t care less. It’s not like a stalk of rosemary he had mistaken for yarrow would suddenly remonstrate him for his idiocy and command him to muck out the stables, unless the sorcerers were getting _really_ desperate with their spells.

And that was another thing – he could practice magic in his clearing! No one else went there! He could do what he liked! 

And the best part – there would be _no Arthurs_.

Merlin whistled to himself, trotting out over the fields and through a small stand of forest to the little clearing he’d found. It grew good herbs. Well, probably it grew good herbs. _Certainly_ it had plenty of flowers and grass and other lovely springish things. So it followed that there would be herbs there as well. Naturally.

He’d barely been there ten minutes when he heard a loud clank and turned, in slow horror, to see Arthur dropping his armour down to join his sword and stretching himself lazily out on a bank next to them. It was a pleasant spot, shaded by a tree, up a steep little slope from where the stream splashed cheerfully amongst stones. Merlin had been planning to sit there himself, and there was Arthur, lying there, grinning at him.

“What,” said Merlin. “Are _you_ doing here.”

“Looking at _spring_!” Arthur said brightly, widening his eyes in what was, Merlin had to admit, rather a good impersonation of his own enthusiasm. Then he gave that mocking crooked smile that was entirely Arthur. “And you need to polish my armour. There’s a stream. Get to it.”

Merlin was irritated at losing his nice day, so for once he didn’t complainingly obey. He stuck his hands on his hips and said, “No.”

He said it without really thinking about what he was doing, out of his annoyance; but then he saw the completely flabbergasted look on Arthur’s face, and that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

So when Arthur snapped, “ _Mer_ lin, do I need to explain the servant thing again? You’d think the concept would have bored its way into even your thick skull by now, the amount of times I’ve had to,” Merlin just grinned cheerily, and when Arthur, annoyed by that, said, “Just clean my armour!” Merlin said again, brightly, “No!”

He crossed his arms over his chest and beamed. Arthur stared at him.

Then Arthur, slowly, menacingly, got up. He would’ve looked much more impressive if some grass hadn’t gotten stuck in his hair. “Merlin,” he said, and did his regal face. “As Crown Prince of Camelot, I _order_ you to clean my armour.”

“As Merlin of Ealdor,” Merlin said, doing his best to mimic Arthur’s arrogant-voice and, he thought, achieving it rather well, “I say: Shan’t!”

Arthur started to grin. Merlin stared at him, unsettled. “Sire ...?” he said uncertainly. “Are you well? You should be yelling at me. Did you eat a funny mushroom? Because there’s this stand of them not far off in the woods once, and I ate one once and the world was blue for _days_.”

“I did not eat a _funny mushroom_ ,” Arthur said, slowly, and he grinned wider. He straightened into his regal, princely pose, the one that always made Merlin imagine him wearing a crown and armour and robes, even when, right now, Arthur just looked like a man as young as he was, in a grass-stained red shirt not much better than his was, with a stupid crooked smile. Arthur wore his royalty like a cloak, sometimes. “Merlin,” he said regally. “I give you full warning. Do you still defy my will?”

In hindsight, Merlin probably shouldn’t have stuck out his tongue.

Arthur dived at him, and Merlin tried to get out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough; Arthur gripped him around the waist, setting his own shoulder against Merlin’s chest, and Merlin couldn’t break free – and, Merlin reflected, this was what happened when you let your princes be knight. They were far stronger than they should’ve been.

Arthur charged forward, and pushed Merlin down over the slope that would lead into the spring, and Merlin grabbed his shirt just as he was falling.

He had time to grin at the startled look on Arthur’s face before they both hit the water with a splash. It was quite a shallow stream, all things considered, and thank the gods that the stones were mostly flat and not of the sharp-and-pointy variety. Even so it wasn’t fun to lie sprawled on your back in a stream, with the back of your clothes completely soaked, your hair also getting soaked, and a prince lying half on top of you.

“Geddoff,” Merlin grunted, pushing at him. And then he went still with horror, realising. Not only had he just mocked the Crown Prince of Camelot to the point of goading him into actual physical attack – he’d _pulled_ him into a _stream_. And Arthur had far more pride than he did patience. Merlin lay there and stared at Arthur with horror and started to wonder about his fate. He’d just decided that, since he was going to die anyway, he might as well show Arthur his magic just to be done with it, when Arthur looked up. And, gods there was mud on his face, argh, it was the headsman for him for certain –

Arthur laughed, and shoved Merlin so that his head was dunked under the water. Merlin surfaced spluttering, partly from surprise, partly because his head had just been dunked under the water. “Sire?” he said cautiously.

Arthur grinned at him. “Yeah?”

“Are you quite sure about the mushroom?”

Arthur stood up, and actually chuckled. “Yes, Merlin. I’m sure about the mushroom.” And he offered Merlin his hand. He actually did. Merlin eyed it cautiously and stood up on his own, stumbling on the slimy stones. Arthur chuckled again. “What am I going to do, push you in again?”

“Well,” said Merlin cautiously. “That’s what I’d expect, yeah. Unless you wanted to just – fetch your sword yourself, and save the headsman the trouble—”

Arthur blinked. “You think you’re in trouble?”

“Yes?”

Arthur _laughed_. Loudly. “Merlin,” he said. “You’re an idiot.” And he clambered up the bank, chuckling again. 

Merlin, looking after him, felt a grin coming on. He let it. Standing knee-deep in stream water with soaking wet hair and mud in his breeches he stared after his prince and he grinned, he _beamed_ , because he was starting to have a suspicion that Arthur had been just as bored by the long winter as he had, and just as grateful for the chance for a little fresh air and play.

Though of course he’d never just _say_ so, the prat.

Arthur looked back at him and called, “Are you going to just stand there all day?” so Merlin grinned at him and climbed up after. He only fell over once, and that was perfectly reasonable, all things considered, and he only got a _bit_ covered in mud, and, really, Arthur had no reason to laugh quite as much as he did.

“I know why you’re here,” Merlin told him, as a sort of revenge.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at his armour significantly.

“You were bored,” Merlin said, and stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned smugly. “You were bored and you knew I’d stop you from being bored. You _needed_ me.”

Arthur snorted. “ _You_ were bored.”

“I wasn’t bored!”

“When I came here you were just sitting on the grass and plucking at flowers randomly. You were so very very bored.” He shoved him. “Admit it. You’re lost without me.”

“I’m often lost _with_ you,” Merlin muttered. “That last time we went hunting—”

“I knew exactly where we were,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “The whole time.”

“Certainly, sire,” said Merlin respectfully. There was a pause in which Arthur looked at him suspiciously. Merlin gave an innocent grin and added, cheerfully, “You _prat_.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes menacingly, and then burst out laughing again when Merlin took a cautious step away from the stream. And then he helped Merlin with gathering the herbs, rolling his eyes and making bored noises at Merlin’s cheerful chatter – Oh, you saw a _bird_ , Merlin? How astonishing! Call for the news-criers! But he helped. And then he helped Merlin pick out the very best flowers for Gwen, and then they played an impromptu game, the rules of which seemed to be ‘try to get Merlin covered in as much mud as possible’ and then changed to ‘try to get Arthur’s armour covered in as much mud as possible so Merlin will have to clean it later’. And by the time they made their way back to the castle they were both very muddy indeed, and the evening air had them shivering and sneezing in their damp clothes, and the flowers were all sad and limp but Gwen was far too amused with both of them to care.

It was … a pretty good day, he guessed. If. If you liked that sort of thing.


End file.
